Title: Tryst
Author: Alex Rosa
Release Date: March 17, 2015
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With an abusive relationship behind her, Skyler moves out of her Orange County apartment, changes her phone number, cuts ties with her friends, and moves in with her brother Josh, a talent agent with a spare room in his incredible house in Hollywood.
Josh is happy to take Skyler under his wing, but he has one rule: she can’t sleep with his roommate, Blake. That’s fine by Skyler. She doesn’t want a man in her life right now—and certainly not cocky Blake who’s with a different girl every night. But his all-American boy charm and his ripped model physique are difficult to refuse. Josh will never know if no one ever tells him. And a little secret now and then never hurt anyone…
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I get the sinking feeling that Blake is having a hard time keeping his hands off me as he places them back on my hips, tugging me close so that we’re flush against each other. He forces my hips to move to the beat with his. The contact is shocking as electricity shoots down my spine with the length of his body pressed against me.
I have to suppress my groan at the feeling it elicits. My blood feels as if it’s on fire, and at this point, I cannot tell if it is alcohol induced or Blake induced.
Trying to regain my equilibrium, I say, “I thought you weren’t showing.” My tone is breathier than I would like, but loud enough for him to hear.
Continuing with gyrating his hips against mine, he grabs for each of my hands and places them around his neck. I don’t protest. I realize that this feels like I’m breaking the rules already, but it doesn’t mean I stop him.
The music is so loud that he leans in close, and his humid breath against my ear has me letting out an unrestrained sigh.
“I was working. I’m surprised Josh didn’t mention it.”
I am quick to quip, “I didn’t ask.”
He pulls away, and wrinkles his nose as I shoot him a glare.
“I’d tell you how amazing you look, but I don’t want to fuel your ego any more than it already has been.”
My brows furrow at the comment. He’s not winning with me tonight.
“Don’t act like you know anything about my ego. It’s bruised and broken, if you must know.” My honesty startles me, but before I have time to scold myself, he pulls my body harder against his, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of each muscly sinew of his abdomen.
“Well then, fine. I’ll let you know that I think you look. . . . incredible.”
I purse my lips, and he laughs.
To my disappointment, he takes a deliberate step back, breaking our contact.
“Now tell me how I look.”
I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter. “Oh, so you’re funny now?”
With a goading expression, he places his hands dramatically on his hips. “Now, Skyler, don’t act like you know anything about my sense of humor . . .” He mirrors my previous tone.
I realize I deserve that, and give him a once-over. The liquid courage I devoured earlier gives me the confidence to appraise him openly, and dammit, the bastard looks good.
His lean, toned physique is decked out in gray pants that hang hypnotically on his hips, and he wears a matching vest, with a white dress shirt underneath that hugs his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, and his brown hair is slicked back. What tops off the ensemble, though, is his bright red bowtie. Even in that outfit, I can tell there is nothing but wonderful muscle underneath that hipster vest. I’ve seen it.
I wave my hand in an exaggerated manner. “Dashing as ever, good sir.”
He nods and moves in to bring me closer while letting out a rewarding laugh. I place my hands back around his neck with ease.
His eyes glitter in the dim room, and his hands skim over the bare skin of my back. “Why thank you, Skyler. Another compliment from you? Who would have thought.”
I make the mistake of shooting my eyes to his lips, and I watch them slink upward, as if he’s noticed.
I recover from my mistake, bringing my eyes back to his, and I shake my head.
“How am I supposed to keep away when you’re such a tempting morsel?”
The statement shocks me, and my face heats. Although buzzed, my mind tells me to check myself. I step away from his grasp as a precaution. “You aren’t allowed to say things like that.”
A wicked curve appears on his lips. “No, you’re wrong. I’m allowed to say whatever I want. What I’m not allowed to do is what I want.”
The statement is staggering, and I take in a deep breath, wondering what the correct plan of action is.
“I think I need another drink.”
When Alex Rosa isn’t scouring city parks or cafes to write, she is most likely trying to convince her friends to join her on her next adventure. A sufferer of wanderlust, she is always looking for a new mountain to climb, a canyon to hike, or a plane to board. Her résumé consists of coroner, zoo worker, and most recently executive assistant, but she finds her home amongst words, whether it is in books or in film. Her obsessions are on the brink of bizarre, but that’s just the way she likes it.
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